Not burdened with
expectation,
one engages the world in
constant surprise.
Not shackled to aversion,
one discovers the balance of
equanimity.
Not given to attraction,
one becomes an exuberant
expression of joy.
Not cursed with contention,
one develops enduring
patience.
Bearing witness to the
truth,
one does not deliver
compassion
with a stick.

A Monk asked
Nanquan, "Master, where will you be found
in a hundred years?"
"Nanquan said, "I'm going to be an ox
living down
at the bottom of the mountain."

P:This can be viewed at two levels:
1) Nanquan was poking fun at the idea of
transmigration.
That he, a master, would be reincarnated as an ox
was
for the monk, sacrilege.

2) The ox in Zen could symbolize Buddha Nature.
So in
a hundred years Nanquan's Buddha Nature wouldn't
be any different
than it was now.

"The monk said, "May I follow you to
that place [as an ox]?"
"Nanquan said, "If you follow me, you
must do so
with a single blade of grass in your mouth."

P:Which meant, to follow me, you must be one with
me (Buddha Nature)

The master then became ill. He said to the monks,
"Starlight is dim but eternal.
Don't say that I'm coming or going."
When he finished speaking, the master died.

P: "Don't say I'm coming or going"
Which means we are never born or die. So, who
could
be reborn?

It's quite irrelevant whether we lived only once
or a million lives.
Our true nature is clear and perfect as the void.
It doesn't need to
store memories or thoughts. And even if it did,
and we could remember
our previous lives, what could we have done then,
different
than now. We eat, we sleep, we love, we fight, we
hope, we suffer.
It's always the same. Now if you could remember
when you were neither
born, nor dead, that would be something to crow
about. Then you could
join Nanquan bringing him a single blade of
grass.